Ted Larkin was an extraordinary man who should be honoured

Brothers in arms: Sergeant Ted Larkin, Lieutenant-Colonel George Braund and Lieutenant-Colonel John Nash. Photo: Australian War Memorial

Six weeks ago, at Allan Border Oval, your humble correspondent spoke briefly at the launch of an initiative of the NSW Government, called United We Stand, which encourages sporting clubs, as a part of the coming Centenary Commemorations for the Great War, to research and honour those of their former players who served.

In the words of Veterans Affairs Minister Victor Dominello: “Local sports clubs serve as a golden repository through which we can capture, preserve and embrace the untold stories of thousands of men and women who have served our country at war.”

And here’s the thing. As I am writing a book on Gallipoli at the moment, I have come across the story of a man that two sporting communities should honour, and several other communities besides.

See Ted Larkin was quite the young blade at the turn of last century. Newcastle born and the son of a miner, he won a scholarship to St Joseph's College at Hunters Hill and was the star hooker of the first XV. Going on with his rugby after school, while working as a journalist, he played with the Endeavour Club of Newtown, and in 1903 – the day after marrying Sydney beauty May Yates – made his debut for the Waratahs against the touring All Blacks. He did so well he was then picked to make his Test debut against them the following month, and performed superbly.

That same year, Larkin joined the NSW Police Force, where he prospered, before resigning in 1909 to take over as secretary of the New South Wales Rugby Football League, then on the point of bankruptcy. Larkin was a great administrator and an even greater advocate for rugby league in the public domain, believing in “honest professionalism as against quasi-amateur football”.

In fact, he was so good that league soon outstripped union for popularity, and as his fame grew, he decided to get into politics for Labor in – get this – the lower north shore seat of Willoughby! No one thought a Labor man could win the blue-ribbon seat of the blue bloods, but on December 13, 1913, he did.

Advertisement

“Labor supporters in Willoughby were euphoric,” recounts Ross McMullin in his superb book Farewell, Dear People: Biographies of Australia's Lost Generation. “A torchlight procession took over Lane Cove Road, and his five-year-old son Teddy retained a vivid lifelong memory of being carried through a jubilant crowd on his father's shoulders.”

You will now receive updates fromRugbyheaven Newsletter

Rugbyheaven Newsletter

The 34-year-old Larkin had it all: a wonderful wife, two sons that he adored, a great career. People touted him as a likely future Premier of the state.

And then the war. Within a fortnight of the outbreak, Larkin and his older brother Martin had joined up with the 1st Battalion of the Australian Imperial Force. It was his duty, he said, to set an example to other sportspeople to do the right thing and fight for the country. He refused a commission to be an officer, not feeling himself qualified, and wanting to stay close to the men.

So it was that at dawn on April 25, 1915, then, it was Sergeant Ted Larkin if you please – described by Sydney Morning Herald correspondent Charles Bean as “a man with a fine influence in his battalion” – who stormed ashore on the beaches of Gallipoli at the head of his troops. Later that afternoon, at Pine Ridge, and just after his older brother had been killed not far away, a bullet hit him, badly wounding him.

When the stretcher bearers came for him, however, Larkin waved them on, saying, “There’s plenty worse than me out there.”

Shortly afterwards, his blood drenching the soil of Gallipoli, Ted Larkin breathed his last. It was, yet, a month later, on May 24 – during an extraordinary armistice that took place, for both sides to bury their dead – that they could recover his body.

When the news of his death reached Sydney it was far more than his devastated wife May and his two sons that mourned. Sydney was devastated.

A Requiem Mass for the repose of his soul was held at St Mary’s Cathedral, attended by the Premier, the Opposition Leader and most of the members of parliament.

At the moment of the consecration, however, as reported in The Freeman’s Journal, “was suddenly heard the sound of drum and bugles and the tread of marching feet. It was the new contingent marching past the cathedral on their way to the front. To the huge congregation, praying for the departed hero, it brought home with a thrill the full realisation of war and what war means for Australia.”

But here is the odd thing. The large plaque on the wall of the Legislative Assembly commemorating his sacrifice, and that of fellow parliamentarian, the Member for Armidale, Lieutenant-Colonel George F. Braund, is wrong.

It records that they, “Fell gloriously in action, at the Dardanelles in the month of May.”

Larkin didn’t. He was among the first ashore on April 25, and died on that very signature day.

A couple of weeks ago in close to his last act as Premier, Barry O’Farrell promised me he would see the plaque changed. The photo attached was taken and sent to me by Mike Baird, just before he became Premier. Deputy Premier Gladys Berejiklian now holds the seat of Willoughby and is a great admirer of the whole Larkin saga.

It should be changed, and will be. And Ted Larkin is precisely the kind of person who should be honoured, and remembered by the NSW Parliament, the Wallabies, the NRL, Joeys, et al, in the coming centenary. Perhaps a dinner, bringing them all together, hosted by the Premier and Opposition Leader?